


Forward

by Killwaii



Series: One foot in front of the other... [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A bit of trauma, Angst, Azkaban, Bathing, Drarry, End of the war, Fluff, Hairbrushing, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Cursed Child, Sharing a Bath, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, not beta read we die like men, sfw, sharing a fireplace, soft, these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killwaii/pseuds/Killwaii
Summary: “Harry!”The sound of his name, the terror of that familiar voice, broke through the din of the aftermath of the battle. Through the cries of the wounded, the cries of those who lost someone they loved. Harry turned towards that voice, searching the battlefield.The sight of Draco Malfoy, a new bruise forming on his pale cheek, terror and fear lighting his storm cloud eyes was not what Harry had expected to see hurrying towards him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: One foot in front of the other... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892389
Comments: 4
Kudos: 330





	Forward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NikaWithSpice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaWithSpice/gifts).



> For Nika
> 
> xox

It had been raining.

Most people, most news articles, all seemed to pass over that fact, celebrating the fact that the war was over, He Who Must Not Be Named finally defeated. But the rain, it had fallen, and Harry thought it had been important. To hide the tears, to wash away all the dirt...all the blood.

To wash away the past and move on to a brighter, better future.

But.

That future was not for everyone, as Harry had learned.

“Harry!”

The sound of his name, the terror of that familiar voice, broke through the din of the aftermath of the battle. Through the cries of the wounded, the cries of those who lost someone they loved. Harry turned towards that voice, searching the battlefield.

The sight of Draco Malfoy, a new bruise forming on his pale cheek, terror and fear lighting his stormcloud eyes was not what Harry had expected to see hurrying towards him.

“Malfoy?” Harry said, quiet, tentative. That was who called out to him, right? Harry wasn’t sure...they had used his first name…

“Thank Merlin, you’re alive.” Malfoy’s shoulders relaxed with a breath out, the smallest grin on that bruised and dirty face.

“I-yes. I am.” 

A few more seconds slid by, with neither of them moving.

“Malfoy-are you...are you okay?” Harry took a tentative step towards the blonde boy, as the chaos flowed around them, and the rain fell softly. 

They had their own space, not part of the crowd, but in a place apart. The Hero and a Death Eater. No one wanted to get between them, wanted to disturb whatever was happening.

A sad smile in response to Harry’s question, as those grey eyes looked down. “I...I’m being taken away soon, and-”

“What, by who? This is done!” Harry waved his arms around the battleground, bodies still littered here and there, the crumbled remains of their school shattered around them.

“For you, yes. But-” Malfoy looked around the room “-but not for everyone.”

Harry heard it, then. The sounds of the Auror’s, capturing the remaining Death Eaters, the werewolves. The ones who had sided with Voldemort.

Realization dawned on him then.

“Wait, but you, you’re not-” Harry couldn’t even get the words out, as a spike of anger, outrage, flowed through him.

“It doesn’t matter, Harry. They see nothing but the mark on my arm, my surname.” He snorted. “Like I had any choice.”

“But-”

“I just wanted to...thank you. For not…” Malfoy bit his lower lip, before looking at Harry, eyes glassy “Thank you for living. I wish I could have known….”

“There he is!”

Harry turned to see an Auror near, pointing at the space Harry and Malfoy had carved out.

“Wait, no. Malfoy….” Harry ran his hand through his hand, fingers tangling in the wreck of his locks. “What can I do? What did you want to know?”

Harry couldn’t explain the urgency that flowed through him, but he knew in his gut, knew to his core, that he needed to hear what Malfoy wanted to say. Needed to hear the pale blonde out, needed to-

The rush of Aurors pierced their bubble, hands and wands raised towards Malfoy, who could only stand there, eyes locked with Harry’s, as sadness and something else poured out of those grey depths.

“Draco Malfoy, under the Ministry of-”

“I wish that we hadn’t been like this-” Malfoy gestured between them, the Auror’s swarming around them.

“-are under arrest-”

“-so then I would have known what it was like to bask in your light-”

“-under the crimes of, and not limited to, being a Death Eater-”

“-to be worthy of being around you, and for-”

“-murder-”

“-for the feelings that I’ve had for you for years-”

“-Anything you say can be used against you, and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“Until your trial.”

The Aurors had finished whatever they were saying. Malfoy had apologised. Harry felt like he’d been kicked in the gut, as the words flowed around him, slowly, slowly making sense in his head.

“Now, you’ll have to come with us-”

“Wait!” Harry held his hands out towards Malfoy. “Please.”

The Aurors glanced at each other, but Harry didn’t wait, hand reaching, but not touching, Malfoy.

“Do you mean...Malfoy...what do you mean by that?” If anyone else heard the small quiver in Harry’s voice, no one mentioned it.

The flush on those pale cheeks was the only answer Harry got, as the Aurors finally dragged Malfoy away.

Rain only washed away the surface dirt, the superficial pain, leaving the scars, deep and ugly and painful and so open. 

* * *

Harry spoke at Malfoy’s trial. And Narcissa’s. He hadn’t been allowed to see either of them, before the trial, or even after.

The shock of seeing Malfoy, pale hair stringy with grease, unshowered and thin, hit Harry hard, pain and guilt twisting in his gut. He wanted to reach out and do something, anything, to lessen Malfoy’s pain, but he couldn’t.

For all the hero worship Harry got, the title came with very little perks. Made Harry feel useless. Like a figurehead with no real power.

Like a puppet.

Before the sentencing, Malfoy had turned towards Harry and said “I feel exactly how you think.” The guards dragged him away before Harry could even pretend to formulate a response. 

In the end, Malfoy received a 6 month sentence in Azkaban. 

* * *

It was raining again.

The weather had turned colder, the winds frigid and bitter, the promise of snow in the early evening air. 

Harry pulled the cloak around him tighter, shifting the bundle in his arms as he waited.

He didn’t have to wait long, the clanking on machinery and metal echoing in the stone courtyard where Harry waited.

A tall, thin figure was propped up between two burly guards, their genders unclear under their cloaks.

Anger rippled through Harry, noticing the figure didn’t have a cloak, and was shivering in the cold air, as the rain continued to fall, soaking all present.

He held himself back though. Harry had only been allowed to come because he made a deal with the Minister. Harry would be part of a publicity event, for the first time ever, and in exchange, he was allowed to come here.

To Azkaban.

To pick up Draco Malfoy.

He had received special permission to Apparate in and out, bringing Malfoy with him on the return journey. 

“He’s all yours, Mr Potter” a gruff voice said as the trio neared Harry, shoving the shivering blonde towards Harry.

Malfoy tripped as he was shoved, landing hard, hands and knees, on the cold unforgiving stone.

“Thanks.” If they heard the sarcasm, they ignored it, as they turned around, going back to the prison, ignoring their now-former prisoner. He was someone else’s problem now. 

Harry unwrapped the bundled cloak in his arms, wrapped the thick fabric around thin shoulders, that rage rearing within Harry again, curling in his gut, the anger deep.

“Potter-?” The voice was weak and quiet. Broken. 

“I’m here.” Harry said, fastening the cloak around Malfoy’s neck, smoothing the wrinkles down his thin back.

Malfoy finally looked up at Harry’s voice, eyes glazed over, deep, purples bruises beneath those dull eyes.

“-but...you’re dead…”

“I-”

“I watched you die-” that glazed, dull look in Malfoy's eyes turned frantic, intense, but unfocused. Looking, but not seeing. “-over and over and-”

A choked sob cut off the rest of the words.

“Draco, shh, I’m right here. I didn’t die.” Harry repeated the words, voice soft, despite the anger, the rage. Draco deserved better than this.

The rain continued to pelt down, soaking their cloaks, as the wind howled through the courtyard, as Harry rubbed gentle circles across Draco’s back.

“Come on, let's get you home, yea? I made dinner already, are you hungry?” Harry said quietly, moving his arms around Draco, helping him off the cold ground, his knees soaked from kneeling in the puddles.

Draco said nothing, but allowed himself to be led away from the prison, towards the area set aside for Harry to Apparate to and from. Harry moved them to the spot, telling Draco the entire time what he was doing, so as to not spook the other man.

In the past 6 months, Harry had done a lot of reading. Looking up the effects of long term confinement, looking up how to best deal with someone facing pain and trauma. Likely having some form of PTSD. Harry had read, and studied. Had spoken to his own therapist, Muggle born, about his own trauma, his own demons. Asked how best to help someone he cared about.

Harry wished he'd done it sooner, so he could have helped Sirius...

But.

There was nothing Harry could do about the past. All he could do was not make the same mistakes, and help the man trembling in his arms.

Once they had arrived in Grimmauld Place, Harry took both their cloaks and shoes off, and cast a quick drying spell, before leading them to the warm kitchen.

“I made a bit of everything I thought you might like, Draco. Please, eat.” Harry said, placing a food laden plate in front of the other man. 

Draco looked from the food, to Harry, then back again.

“Thank you.”

The words were whispered, unsure. So far from the Draco that Harry knew.

“You’re welcome.” Harry responded. Truth be told, he spent more time watching Draco eat, tentative and slow, than feeding himself. 

Draco was much changed, the months spent in Azkaban making their mark on the man. Pale hair lay greasy and stringy, and nearly to Draco’s thin shoulders. His skin was sallow and oily. The deep purple blotches underneath dull eyes had Harry the most worried, the lack of sleep and care taken either by himself or the prison guards obvious. Harry wanted to fix it all, make Draco better, but that would take time. And patience. And a great deal of care.

“You’re really here.” Draco had a fork halfway to his mouth, but stopped, eyes wide, as they stared at Harry.

A small smile. “Yes, Draco. I’m here, and not going anywhere.”

“-I watched you die….over and over and-” A choked sob.

Harry stood up and carefully moved to where Draco was seated, crouching down, fingers gently touching still-damp knees.

“I am here, alive and well. And so are you. Nothing will change that now, Draco.” 

Those storm grey eyes just stared at Harry, wide and glassy, and Harry felt a finger, cold and trembling, gently touch the hand resting on Draco’s knee.

“I want you to know that you never have to tell me about what happened in there, but I’ll always listen if you do.” Harry smiled, squeezing Dracos knee.

"Anyways, I.. well. Okay, just-" A sigh, and Harry could feel the heat high on his cheeks. "-just, okay. Nod, I guess, if it's okay. Okay?"

Draco raised a delicate eyebrow, before offering the smallest nod.

Harry took a deep breath in. Okay, months of planning and work had gone into this moment, this conversation-such as it was. 

Deep breath out.

"Just." Another breath in. "Did you know your manor was raided?"

That delicate, worn face fell with a nod, eyes cloudy, dull. 

"I, well-" deep breath in and out. "I set up a room for you here...is...is that okay? Did you...are you comfortable staying here?"

Long pale fingers twisted together, as Harry waited for a response, his heart thundering against his chest, beating against his bones.

A nod, almost imperceptible, and Harry broke into a smile. 

"Brilliant. Okay, I also managed to... _ acquire _ ...some of your things, before the raids. I have it all here, in storage. I hope you don’t mind, I just wanted you to have- "

"Why?"

The voice was quiet and choked, rasping in against a throat likely underused in the past months.

"What?" 

Draco cleared his throat, fingers twisting and clenching. "Why are you doing this for me? Any of this?" A weak gesture around the warm kitchen. 

That was the million pound question, wasn't it? And Draco had wasted no time in asking. Not that Harry could blame him. No. The man was allowed all the distrust and suspicion he wanted. Was allowed to be scarred and broken and confused. Hell, Harry had had 6 months of therapy and adjusting to this new world, and he still woke up screaming, the scent of blood fresh in his mind. Wand close at hand, the smallest sound startling him into near panic.

Harry was  _ still _ a mess, and he'd had 6 months to adjust. Draco had 6 months in the worst kind of prison, facing Merlin knew what.

"Do you remember what you said to me, during the trail? And after the battle?"

Draco blinked, as he worked to remember, his cheeks turning a pink as he nodded.

"Did you mean it?"

The pink intensified, as Draco looked away, nodding.

“I’m not...It’s that-” Harry paused, another deep breath in. And out. His heart slowing in his chest imperceptibly. “I’m not in love with you, or anything. But... But I think I could be.”

Draco had turned back to Harry, eyes wide, mouth agape. “You….What does that even mean?”

“It means...I guess it means that I  _ want _ to fall...for you. The real you. Now that the war is over, and we can, you know, both just be normal people.”

A snort. “We’ll never be normal. Not us.” A raised hand, towards where the lightening bolt lay on Harry’s forehead.

Draco moved his hand away, hands fisted together, Harry longing for the touch that didn’t happen. Draco gestured to his own arm, the dark mark visible through the worn fabric. 

“Not ever.”

“Not normal then, but, something for us. Just us, I guess.”

Silence stretched as they stared at each other, intense, weighted. Until-

“I...I would like that.”

“Me too.” Harry smiled, then stood up, knees cracking. “If you’re done eating, let's get you cleaned up.”

Draco said nothing, but trembling fingers reached out, taking the hand that Harry had extended.

They said nothing as Harry led them up the stairs, towards the master bath. He, and Ron and Hermione, had cleaned up Grimmauld Place a lot over the months, removing the worst of the Black family legacy. As a peace offering, Harry had allowed Kreacher to keep anything he wanted, as long as he kept it in the attic, which he also gave to Kreacher as his own. 

It was a mutually beneficial agreement that kept the house less terrifying and the house elf happy. 

The additional plus side of this arrangement was that Harry had finally renovated much of the second floor, with help from Molly, of course. The master bedroom had been left as is, the memory of Sirius too sharp, too real, against Harry’s heart. Instead, Harry created a new master bedroom, knocking down the walls between two former rooms and creating a large bedroom and ensuite bath. Harry had brought in a huge bed, added a fireplace, and got a wardrobe and a chest. Not that he had enough clothing to fill them, but, it made him happy to just have the things he’d been denied his entire life. Things he’d never owned.

The bathroom was a near replica of the Prefect bath at Hogwarts. Smaller, of course. Slightly less elaborate, but it was close enough. Close enough that Draco paused at the entryway, eyes wide as he looked around the large room.

A small smile on his lips, Harry reluctantly let go of Draco’s hand, moving towards the tub to turn the taps and scents on. With help from Neville, Harry had learned a lot about the healing properties of plants and flowers, and, armed with that knowledge, chose the scents and additives for Draco’s bath-sea salt for sore muscles, eucalyptus and mint for relaxation. 

Draco watched as Harry moved around the bathroom, grabbing towels, checking the temperature, the height of the water. Harry could feel those grey eyes on him, intense, searching. As the tub finally filled, and Harry turned the water off, he turned towards Draco, still standing near the door.

“Um. Okay, Draco?” voice calm, soothing, hands raised “We need to get you in there and I...I am going to help, okay? If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, tell me. I’ll stop, yea?”

Harry waited for that nod, however tentative, before moving closer. 

Equal parts terrified and pleased, Harry moved close enough to Draco to reach his clothes. Starting with the button up, Harry slowly began to undo the buttons, exposing pale skin, pulled taut over sharp collar bones. It was clear that Draco was underfed and under bathed, a spike of worry and concern coursing through him.

Draco was trembling, but Harry resolutely kept his eyes on his task, face flushed as more skin was exposed.

It wasn’t like Harry was trying to make it  _ that _ kind of situation, because he wasn’t. But, if asked, he wouldn’t, couldn’t deny the beauty of Draco, and Harry’s attraction to the pale swaths of skin now exposed. The feel of chill skin, soft against Harry’s rough fingers, as he pulled the shirt off Draco, brought a small gasp from both of them.

A deep, shuddering breath, and Harry moved to Draco’s trousers, pulling them down in one swift movement. Harry bit his lip as all that pale skin was exposed, the only thing still covering Draco a thin pair of pants. 

“May I?” If Harry’s voice cracked as he nodded towards Draco’s pants, face aflame, well, who could blame him?

Besides, Harry was good enough to ignore the matching crack in Draco’s voice as he responded “It’s...It’s fine.”

Face turned away, embarrassingly hot, Harry removed the rest of Draco’s clothing, and quickly stripped down to his pants, throwing his clothes with Draco’s near the hamper. 

“Shall we?”

“Are-are you joining me?”

“I mean. I was going to help? I guess, but. You can...I can leave, if you want?”

“No!” Draco’s voice was loud in the stillness of the room, echoing off the tile. “No. It’s just...it’s…” He trailed off, body curled in on itself.

Deep breath in. 

“I don’t want to be….alone...but...the baths, in that place-” Draco shuddered, body huddled in on itself.

Harry moved closer, hands gentle against Draco’s shoulders, thumb caressing the soft skin. 

“You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m not going to hurt you. Or take advantage of you. I just-” he ran a hand through his hair, nails scraping his scalp. “I just want to take care of you, is all.”

That blonde head rested against Harry’s shoulder, the hot breath of an exhale against Harry’s chest 

“- _ please _ .”

The sadness, the underlying plea within that single response brought a tightness to Harry's throat, that feeling of melancholy and sadness so familiar it physically hurt. The war was won, yes, but at what cost? So much loss, and pain, lives changed forever, all because of one fucking man’s prejudice. 

Harry said nothing as he moved them towards the steaming bath, the soothing scents enveloping them as they both entered the hot water. Neither of them spoke as they just soaked, the head a soothing balm that warmed them both, thawing the horror that lived inside.

Draco watched as Harry lathered up a cloth, then began to wash the dirt and grime off Draco, their faces flushed from the heat of the water, and, at least for Harry, the feel of that body beneath his fingers. Slowly and thoroughly, Harry cleaned Draco’s skin, rinsing the exposed pale flesh, nearly glowing as the streaks of water slid down that paleness. Harry could feel the intensity at which Draco watched, waiting, but he continued on, resolute in his ministrations. 

Once the skin was cleaned, Harry moved to Draco’s hair. Lathering the shampoo, fingernails gentle but firm against Draco’s scalp. Running his fingers through the silken strands, to the scalp, behind the ears and neck, massaging the skin there.

Draco nearly purred, eyes closed to the sensations, and Harry took that as a good sign, a sign of approval. He dropped a quick kiss to Draco’s shoulder before reaching for the shower head to rinse the shampoo out. 

The same procedure was followed for the conditioner, Harry using both hands to massage Draco’s scalp, using more pressure as he cupped the thin neck, thumbs circling the base, before gently scratching nails through those pale strands, and releasing. Harry dropped a kiss to Draco’s other shoulder, receiving a hum of pleasure, before carefully rinsing off all the soap and conditioner.

Harry got out of the tub first, leaving Draco to soak longer as he dried himself off. Truth be told, he also needed a moment to just breathe. He wanted to give Draco all the space he needed, but the urge to just scoop Draco up, and hold him tight was strong.

Harry, back turned to the tub, quickly removed his pants, pulling on clean, dry joggers and a tee that was too big for him. He’d set aside clothing for Draco too, but, before that…

Large towel wrapped in his arms, he moved back to the tub.

“Draco?” Harry held the towel between his hands, arms outstretched. “Are you ready to come out? I can let you soak awhi-”

The soft bump of Draco’s body against his silenced Harry, instinctively wrapping his arms, and the towel, around the slim body resting against his. Draco sighed as he moved in closer, the damp hair resting against Harry’s cheek, as he slowly began drying Draco off. Which was a little challenging as Draco refused to move from the cradle of Harry’s arms. Not that Harry was mad about it, of course. But...

Bugger it.

Harry scooped Draco up, fluffy towel and all, an extra set of clothes in hand, and moved them back to the bedroom. 

A quick wandless spell and the fireplace flared to life, settling to a respectable flame as they moved closer. Harry maneuvered them to the ground, already laid out with plush blankets and pillows, settling them so that Draco was in front of him, towel pooled around his waist. 

“Alright, you’re gonna have to help me with this one…” Harry started, unfolding the shirt he’d brought. Yes, it was his own shirt, but it was the newest one he owned, and it was green.

Draco lifted his arms, accepting the shirt that was too big, pooling at his waist as Draco moved the towel himself, shuffling into the black joggers Harry had bought for him, then settled back into the circle of Harry’s limbs, both of them facing the fire that burned cheerily. Harry wrapped a large blanket around them both, cocooning them in warmth. 

“I like having you here, Draco. Right here.” Harry whispered, as he accio’d his comb. “It’s just-oh, you don’t need to respond, or anything, so don’t worry. You can just listen.”

Draco nodded, then sighed as the first brush of the comb went through his hair.

“I know that this, with us, isn’t going to always be easy. But, I think it’s worth it. I...I don’t know if I ever, I dunno, longed for something like I do this, y’know?”

As he spoke, Harry ran the comb through Draco’s pale locks, still damp, fingers curling beneath the strands as he pulled each section of hair. Fingers gently pulling apart any tangles, working through them patiently, until fully untangled, then back to the comb.

“I reckon we’ll just take it slow, for now. One day at a time, and all. We’ve...we’ve both been through a lot, the past, well. Ever. And we both need to work on that, probably.”

The locks untangled and now dry, Harry used his fingers to comb through the pale silken strands, running the tips of his fingers down Draco’s scalp, back up again, fingernails scratching gently. Harry reveled in the feel, the colour of the strands, like spun silk that shone like the starlight, such a pale blonde it was nearly white, a stark contrast to Harry’s darker skin. 

“I mean, I don’t even know if you want, like, this, anymore. I am probably overstepping, or misunderstanding, you-”

“Harry.”

“- know how bad I am at that and-”

Fingers, cool but soft, pressed against Harry’s lips, effectively shutting him up, those grey eyes finally- _ finally! _ -sparkling as Draco peeked out the blanket that engulfed them both.

“I feel like I made my feelings clear whilst being arrested.”

“Well, I mean, things might have-”

“Nothing has changed. I-” Draco turned back to the fireplace, hiding his face, but not before the telltale sign of a rose blush formed on Draco’s cheeks. “-I. Well. The only reason I got through  _ that _ was, I guess, feelings, or whatever, that I had. For you.”

Draco’s voice had softened, barely audible, as he sunk deeper into the blankets, which were up to his nose.

“I’m really rather fond of you too, Draco.” Harry whispered, lips pressed against Draco’s neck, nuzzling the soft skin.

Harry pulled them to the ground, propped up by pillows and blankets, so they were both laying, facing the fire. He pulled Draco closer, arm wrapped around a slim waist, smiling as fingers slid between his own, entwining their hands together. His other hand carded through that spun starlight, strands slipping between his fingers,

They lay like that as Draco’s breath evened out, relaxing further into the protective embrace of Harry’s arms, their nest of warmth and safety lulling the boy to sleep.

Harry, a soft smile on his lips, curled deeper into Draco, wrapping his larger body around the one in his arms, allowing sleep to finally claim him.


End file.
